Chapter Text
Anakin had always felt cold in space. The sensation had never ceased, no matter how often he had been forced to travel lightyears at a time. Only while piloting had the adrenaline shooting through his veins been able to shy the coldness away for some time, the fire of battle, the speed had been soothing and like a welcoming embrace, making him forget the goosebumps on his skin and the trembling of his muscles that desperately tried to keep him warm.
Ever since that fateful day on Mustafar he hadn’t set foot on solid ground, nor had he been able to flee the cold through piloting. Obi-Wan - or whatever being had overtaken his former master’s body - would have been a fool to let the younger man even near the cockpit or any sensitive parts of the ship.
Anakin Skywalker felt like a trapped animal that didn’t even know who or what it was anymore.
He used to be a Jedi. That seemed to be a lifetime ago. Long ago the ideals of the Order had started feeling like hypocrisy and Anakin couldn’t deny that leaving those behind had been a great deal easier than it should have been.
He used to be a Sith. He wasn’t sure if he was one anymore. The title and name really didn’t hold much meaning to him but it was definitely more true to his feelings than the title Jedi. He felt anger and hate and didn’t do much to let them go. It seemed like they were all he had left and letting go of those feelings would mean he would have to confront what lay beneath: fear, panic even and crushing sadness.
He used to be a hero. The Hero with no Fear they had called him, now all that was left was a murderer, a criminal, an outlaw who had left a trail of destruction behind him.
But he was certain he was still this: the husband of Padmé Amidala. A father. A heartbroken man.
There hadn’t been many occasions in the past that Anakin sat down to meditate voluntarily. Most of the time it had been classes or Obi-Wan himself that had made him do it. Contradictory to most Jedi he hadn’t found balance, harmony, clarity or calmness out there with his mind floating in the Force. It had always felt like too much of everything, too many noises and feelings and unbelievable chaos.
In the days - or had it been weeks already? - since Mustafar Anakin had started to find his peace in the Force. It wasn’t meditation the Jedi way, more of a floating and searching in the endlessness that was the Force. He would soak up the pain and anguish coming from the remaining Jedi on the flight. He would lie in hiding, ready to jump if anywhere in the Force he could feel Palpatine torturing, hurting, killing someone, anyone and he would drown himself in the emotions that arose every time that happened. Sometimes he would imagine being a sponge soaking up every single trace of pain that originated from the decisions he had made.
It wasn’t that he regretted his decisions and actions per se. They had been a necessary evil at the time for he could still feel Padmé somewhere far away, clouded but alive, hunted by a shadow that was the trace of Obi-Wan’s grip. Still, the faces of those lost, of the Jedi he had executed without second thought, they hunted him in every dreaming or waking moment aboard the ship Obi-Wan held him hostage on.
One day like the other, he was again sitting in the main living area of the small ship. Obi-Wan seemed to carefully hold his distance but still Anakin could feel his gaze upon him. His knees remained steady on the ground, hurting from hours on the durasteel floor. The pain was all that held him back to the real world, his mind was somewhere else altogether.
Anakin…
A low voice that came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. In the first moment Anakin wasn’t even sure if it was a voice at all, but then it repeated itself.
Anakin… listen…
He tried to not let his surprise show. The voice seemed vaguely familiar as if he’d known it in another life. ‘Who are you?’
It doesn’t matter but you have to listen. Obi-Wan was meant to be a warrior of the light not to succumb to darkness. You have to reach him, take him out of his misery. Bring him back, Anakin!
‘Do I have to remind you that you’re talking to a sith?’ Anakin shot back. He wasn’t very inclined to speak to Obi-Wan any more than he had to. Thinking of Mustafar, their encounter, Obi-Wan’s threats against Padmé - and he was quite certain his former master would have killed his wife at any moment - and finally their absolutely horrifying, agitating kiss that still haunted his dreams - admittedly in a good way - wasn’t his preferred memories. Not at all.
A chuckle was all he heard before the presence left.
Before Anakin could contemplate the matter any more he felt someone approach him from behind. Suddenly a cold, calloused hand settled on his neck. “So, that’s the way you knelt before Sidious?” Obi-Wan’s voice sounded strangely indifferent and partly distasteful, not at all the warm and compassionate man he used to be. He could feel the invasion on his mind through the bond that had been nearly broken and then repaired in a frightening and obsessive way that let Anakin feel like he was taken on a leash. There was no way to escape Obi-Wan’s intrusions, not even shielding his most intimate thoughts and feelings seemed to work anymore. It felt as if Obi-Wan had become a part of his mind, a parasite that fed off his emotions, ready to take over at any time.
He felt the hand push him forward, head down towards the ground. Everything in him was resisting, his muscles tensed in a vain attempt to fight back and push against the man standing above him. It was too late that he realized when Obi-Wan buried his fingers in his loose curls and pushed him violently forward until his forehead collided with the ground, letting a sickly cracking sound be heard in the otherwise silent room.
Anakin grit his teeth to fight an anguished gasp from escaping his lips.
“Don’t fight me.” Obi-Wan growled darkly.
“What do you want!?” Anakin felt his voice escape his lips much less firmly than he would have liked. Instead he felt breathless, the position he was in making it hard to suck enough air into his chest. He hated feeling this helpless but didn’t dare fight back out of fear that the older man might take it out on Padmé in the end.
Instead of answering, Obi-Wan slowly walked around him, his grip on his hair not loosening in the slightest, and sat down himself. Anakin could only see his knees from the position he was in, heard his breathing, calm and soft as if they were just having another discussion on Jedi philosophy or lightsabre forms.
He tried to look up some more only to see both their lightsabers dangling from the other’s belt. Maybe, if he just reached out through the Force, took it and somehow got rid of Obi-Wan’s grip on him… but that would still leave Obi-Wan’s somehow still active connection to Padmé to be a serious threat. Anakin wasn’t sure if it would really be possible that half across the galaxy he would be able to hurt her but he wasn’t willing to take the risk, not yet at least.
“First, we have to get rid of Palpatine.” Obi-Wan stated casually as if just discussing another battle plan, his voice suddenly relaxed and thoughtful. “He’s a serious problem but I’m sure you will manage. The clones are another thing altogether, I doubt we will be able to get them back on our side, which leaves only one option... Oh, and I’ve heard rumors about a rebellion forming against your empire under the leadership of our dear friend Senator Organa and some others… They might be of valuable help until we get back on top of things and bring some order and justice back to your new empire .” The last he added in light mockery. His grip on Anakin eased slightly, turning from forceful to caressing as his fingers began to softly comb through his hair. It made goosebumps rise on his skin and a shiver run up his spine and he wasn’t sure it was in a good way.
Obi-Wan’s presence so close to him felt strangely comforting even if shouldn’t have rationally. Maybe it was only some kind of desperate coping mechanism of Anakin’s mind to have some kind of connection, to stop the feeling of utter loneliness that had started to spread in his bones over the course of the last days or weeks. Being physically close to his master had been something to bring comfort and security to Anakin’s troubled mind as a padawan as well as later in the war when he had already been a knight. Unfortunately as a perfect Jedi master it wasn’t Obi-Wan’s usual self to provide this kind of closeness and he had always seemingly shied away from any closer contact to his apprentice. Anakin had come to accept this reluctantly only to find himself positively surprised when the older man had somewhere months into the war begun to seek his former padawan’s closeness by himself. It had begun with careful, relieved hugs after they had been apart for some periods of time. Later they had shared a tent occasionally and the coldness of the night had been a convincing excuse to slip inside each other’s sleeping bags, arms wrapped around the other’s heated body. Not once had they discussed the matter, Anakin too afraid it would stop as fast as it had begun and Obi-Wan probably embarrassed to some extent about his purely human yearnings.
As Obi-Wan’s fingers suddenly rested under his chin and directed his head upwards once again, Anakin was shaken out of his thoughts. Suddenly he was looking into disturbingly colorless eyes that were settling somewhere between white, blue and silver, as if all those colors were just constantly battling and fighting for dominance. It was unsettling, to say the least, somehow nightmarish and captivating at the same time but nonetheless Anakin didn’t find it in himself to look away. Besides the eyes, Obi-Wan’s face was the same it had always been: calm, familiar, comforting, the features of a man who had been able to tame his temperament for the last years, who could keep him mentally on the ground with just a smile and some words.
He’s not that person anymore… Anakin thought to himself, trying to convince himself of the fact. He threatened Padmé… he would have killed her… So he forced himself out of staring at the other man, shook his head barely noticeable and took a deep breath.
“You’re trying to reestablish the Republic, then?” His voice was shallow and insecure.
What escaped Obi-Wan’s lips was something like a strangled laugh, hardly recognizable as such. “This is not about the Republic. I sacrificed everything for the idea of democracy and justice and lost everything in return.” He let his finger trace ghostly across Anakin’s jawline. “All I want is to look Palpatine in the eye when he finally realizes he laid hands on the wrong person. I want to see his defeat. And I want him to die at my hands.”
Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s breath on his face and almost taste his lips on his own. Even though the words sent goosebumps all over his skin, he yearned to feel the other man’s warmth and the softness of his kisses. He should have been afraid, repelled even maybe, but at the same time all he felt was unbelievable closeness and connection on hearing that finally Obi-Wan seemed to have grown a connection and acceptance for his own feelings. Even days ago the Jedi wouldn’t have acknowledged even one single emotion like his now apparent hate and disgust and lust for revenge. He would have ended up talking of endless platitudes about harmony, peace and serenity while all Anakin would have wanted to do was make him shut the fuck up one way or another.
“Who are you and what did you do to Obi-Wan!?” Anakin heard himself mumble before Obi-Wan closed the space between them and sealed their lips with a fervent kiss. It took Anakin long moments to even react at all. He wasn’t sure he liked what he felt, even though feeling Obi-Wan’s lips on his and his beard scratching his chin lightly made him lust for more. At the same time all he wanted to do was throw the other man right across the room and make him feel the fear and pain he’d felt on seeing Padmé threatened and nearly die. Back on Mustafar everything seemed to sort itself alright, things were going according to plan and then suddenly the world had seemed to turn against him. And it was all Obi-Wan’s fault.
The air around them seemed to drop some degrees in temperature as Anakin’s anger took over. It was all so very unfair and again he felt totally out of control. It was supposed to be him to be the one in charge, finally. Not Obi-Wan, not the Jedi, just him, Anakin Skywalker, the chosen one… No, Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith… That was him and nobody would dare mess with him.
A wave of emotion surged through his veins and manifested itself in an outburst that threw Obi-Wan across the room and let him collide with the far wall. A sickly cracking sound echoed through the air when his head hit the durasteel and for a moment Anakin thought he’d actually just killed his former master. His stomach turned and he tasted bile in his throat while he waited for the motionless man to finally do anything. It took some achingly long moments for Obi-Wan to regain his composure, his breathing shaky and his head hanging low for some more seconds before he lifted his gaze to find Anakin still kneeling in the middle of the room.
Anakin was torn between the fear of Obi-Wan miraculously reaching over to Padmé somewhere across the galaxy and finishing what he’d begun on Mustafar and the craving to attack the other man further.
The Force around him was darkening and crackling with excitement and anger and blood lust. It felt similar to when Palpatine had defended himself against the Jedi Masters in his office on Coruscant just that this time Anakin wasn’t sure where those feelings originated from. Maybe it was them both…
A feral growl escaped Obi-Wan’s lips, his pale eyes focused on Anakin and with it the Force seemed to wrap itself around the younger man like a tight cloak. The air felt thick, nearly too thick to breathe and he felt the urge to frantically suck in air only that the suffocating feeling didn’t change. Anakin tried to regain some sense of control by standing up on shaky knees that hurt from sitting for such a long time. His head felt dizzy, like the oxygen in the air was just outright missing, but he convinced his body to function by pure will. Three years of building up survival instincts seemed to make themselves known.
“Don’t…” Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a long moment before breathing deeply and visibly letting go of the tension in his body. When he opened his eyes again, he walked slowly over to Anakin, his feet settling on the ground without a single sound, his movements relaxed and casual as if they were having a totally normal conversation. “You won’t do something like this ever again.” With every step Obi-Wan came closer, the world seemed to close itself around Anakin until all he could see and feel was Obi-Wan like a dawning storm. The twisted, aching bond between them was wailing in agony and at the same time seemed to be the only direction in which Anakin found himself feeling anything in the Force. It felt like Obi-Wan had deliberately cut him off, leaving only a small, tightly controlled crack open. But that wasn’t possible, right? No one could do something like this?
“Do you understand?” Obi-Wan’s soft, silky voice cut through Anakin’s thoughts like a knife and pulled him back to reality. A reality where he felt deaf and blind and all that was left was the overwhelming presence of the man before him.
Anakin felt himself nod before he could help it, then shook his head as if it could free him of the dark cloud around his head but it didn’t do any good. “Get out of my head…” Even though standing in front of the older man Anakin towered over him by some inch, he still felt powerless, helpless, small.
And Obi-Wan just kept on looking at him, a stranger’s eyes in a friend's face.